The king after hours boo.., p.1
The King (After Hours Book 1), page 1
Copyright
The King – After Hours Series Copyright © 2018 Ivy Fox
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of all word marks, products, brands, TV shows, movies, music, bands and celebrities mentioned in this work of fiction.
Cover image & edit: courtesy of X-Factory Designs
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ISBN: 9781726618984
Dedication
To my King
For making me feel like a Queen every day since the moment you came into my life.
I love you, Baby.
Table of Contents
MAIN TITLE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE I
EPILOGUE II
AUTHOR NOTES
IVY FOX NOVELS
THE PRINCE (PREVIEW)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Prologue
Edie
You’re probably wondering who I am.
Me?
I’m no one.
No one of importance, at least. I’m not rich or beautiful, as are most of the women I find running around this office. And there are many since I work for one of the most illustrious fashion magazines in the country.
No, not that one.
The other one.
Royal Magazine. This one. The one that everybody who is anybody would sell their grandmother off to, just to be on the cover. You see, fashion magazines aren’t only for the wafer-thin, drop-dead gorgeous model types. Now actors, actresses, musicians, socialites—hell, even politicians, get a crack at being plastered on the Royal pages. The only thing they have in common? Money and charisma. They need to have that it factor to even be a contender on any of the pages of this high-end fashion magazine.
Now, I don’t want to sound bitter. I’m not. Truly. It’s just… coming to work every day and living amongst the beautiful people, when I am anything but, kind of sucks sometimes.
So why do I stay, you ask?
Two reasons.
First, I work for my best friend whom I’ve known since kindergarten. My mom was her in-house nanny, and when my dad left, I became a permanent fixture to the Richardson House. Devina was just a bit older than me, but right from the get-go, she and I became each other’s confidants—almost sisters, even. The only time we ever parted was when she went to an Ivy League school down in Boston—yeah that one—and I stayed put to go to NYU, thanks to my big brains and maybe even a few strings pulled by Devina’s mom. Both of us studied business, but while Devina is fully focused on numbers and figures, I’m more of a people’s person. So when she came back to New York to take a seat at Royal, I wasn’t surprised when she called up asking me to be her personal assistant once I graduated. Thanks to her, I know everybody that has any weight in this town, and they come to me directly if they want anything from Devina. So I get a lot of people kissing my ass on a constant basis, but I also have to translate her blowing them off as diplomatically as possible. Not always easy. So, yeah, I love working with Dev behind closed doors. It’s when I open said doors do I get to see the other reason I love working here.
Dean Knox.
My Achilles’ heel in every way it counts. Always immaculate in his Gucci suit, the man oozes confidence and apathy. I have seen half-naked models making absurd figures of themselves to get his attention, and yet the man is stone cold. He enters the office each morning without even hinting a smile to anyone. Unless he is talking to his sidekicks—his best friends from college who also work at Royal—he rarely says much of anything, really.
But he watches. God, does he watch. He is one of those people who lies back and takes everything in until he’s made a judgment of you before you’ve even said a word to him. How do I know he does this? Well, while Dean watches his adversaries, I watch him. Pathetic? Maybe. Can a day pass by without me doing it? Hell to the no! Being a no one has its advantages, after all. A man like him doesn’t even know I exist, and I’ve been working for Dev—who, I might add, is his fifty-fifty partner in Royal—for the past two years. Been in the same office with him numerous times. Been to staff meetings, boardroom assemblies, and social gatherings—with him at every one—more times than I can count. Yet he’s never once spoken to me more than a few odd words here and there. Still, I live for these moments.
Okay, now I sound pathetic, but believe me, if you ever crossed Dean Knox’s path in your life, you would probably not be too proud of your antics, either. Think of the hottest guy you ever came into contact with. Yeah, you got that picture in your head? Good. Now double that hotness by a thousand, and even then I’m not sure you’re in the same ballpark. You see my dilemma now?
I live day in and day out amongst the beautiful people, yet I only have eyes for one.
And he’s the reason I both love coming to work and hate it.
Because being reminded you are a no one kinda sucks when you desperately want to be someone’s someone.
Chapter 1
Edie
“Edie, are you really wearing that to work?” my roommate Lexi asks, eyeing me up and down in distaste.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, unaware of why she’s giving my ensemble the thumbs down.
“I think my grandmother wore the same thing last weekend to our family dinner. On her, it looked sharp. On you, though, it just looks so wrong in so many ways.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s conservative. Perfectly acceptable for a day at the office,” I tell her, walking over to the counter and pouring myself a good, hot, steaming mug of delicious coffee. Coffee is life, people. Anyone telling you otherwise is absolutely bonkers.
“White blouse with a brown skirt can be considered okay for where I work, which is not the high-end fashion magazine where you spend every moment of every freaking day,” she huffs out dramatically.
“You’re exaggerating, Lex. I don’t spend all my time there. It’s just that Dev really needs me right now. The magazine is doing so well, but to stay on top, you have to work your ass off.”
“Yeah, whatever. Still, it wouldn’t hurt you to look hot doing it,” Lexi sing-songs, wiggling her eyebrows at me.
“Did you miss the part when I told you I’m surrounded by gorgeous models every day? I could spruce up all I want and still not look even half as good as those girls. So there is no point in waking up an hour earlier just to look my best. Conservative and proficient works just fine for me, thank you very much. With the added bonus that I get to click the snooze button at least three times before I have to get out of bed,” I brag, knowing how Lexi usually is up at the crack of dawn to look like a million bucks. While I’m still snoring up a storm, my roommate has already done a full hour of cardio, showered, blow-dried her hair, put on her warrior makeup to accentuate her wardrobe of choice of the day, with still plenty of time to spare to make us both breakfast. I envy her morning drive, but I wouldn’t trade my two extra hours of blissful slumber for anything in this world. Especially if my dreams contain a certain sexy billionaire CEO—but I digress.
“Not if you still want to get in Dean’s pants. How is the guy supposed to notice you when you hide that bombish of a figure in granny wear every day?”
I sigh in defeat because this conversation with Lexi is as old as time. She thinks that putting on some red lipstick and a short mini would be enough to turn any head, even that of the most eligible bachelor in New York City. She just doesn’t realize that no set of wardrobe or makeup would get his attention. I’ve never seen a man more immune to female seduction than Dean. I have seen models, and even actresses trying to get his attention to no avail. He’s never had a girlfriend that I can attest to, nor do I see him in the society pages going out with numerous women. That task is left to his best friend and marketing director of Royal Magazine, Connor Walsh. He’s infamous for his sexcapades, while Dean is known for his no-nonsense attitude and workaholic ways. I don’t think the man thinks of anything but work. Honorable as that may be, it kind of saddens me how he has no time for real human affection. His circle of friends includes playboy Connor and the quietly intense Sebastian Kelley, who also works at Royal as
finance director. The three men are tighter than the skinny black jeans Lexi’s showing off.
“At least take your hair down. Give them something to look at, for crying out loud,” Lexi goes on as she rummages through her bag, making space for her beloved laptop.
“The bun is fine. Having my hair out will only get in my way,” I say, pushing my black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose. “And anyway, I refuse to take the advice of a woman who dyes her hair every color of the rainbow once a month,” I tease.
This month, Lexi is sporting a vibrant pink, which looks amazing on her but would look ridiculous on me. Prim and proper is the way to go in my case. I’m paid to be invisible anyway, so wearing vibrant colors would only be a distraction to the purpose of my job. Devina likes my discretion as well as my ability to be in a room, hearing and seeing things most people wouldn’t realize I was privy to. It pays to be a fly on the wall, and to most people who work at Royal, that is exactly what I am.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. One day, Edie Vanderwalt, you’ll want more in life, and then I’m positive your freak will show, too.” She grins a pearly white smile at me, and I laugh at her for even thinking I have any ‘freak,’ as she calls it, in me. I think boring is more my style. I’m fine with boring; I’m comfortable like this—even though from time to time, I do wish I was a little bit more adventurous. Maybe if I were, I’d finally get a certain someone to take notice of me. But I’m so off his radar, it’s not even funny. More like depressing.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. That movie studio called again. They sure are persistent, aren’t they?” Lexi remarks, halfway out of the door of the box we call an apartment.
“Same message, I gather?” I exhale.
“Yep, same one. They said they could have a plane ticket ready for you whenever you change your mind,” Lexi states, and I see the tension in her eyes, concerned I may take them up on their offer and leave her to venture out to California.
“Cali is too sunny for my liking, so they can keep their plane ticket. They’ll tire of the chase sooner or later,” I say, trying to ease her worry.
“It’s a great opportunity, you know. I’m sure Devina would be okay with you ditching her to become the go-to PA of one of the biggest movie studios in the world. I bet the pay is also more than what she’s shelling out,” she continues, biting her lower lip.
The pay is almost five times what I’m getting now. Mind you, Dev pays me well enough, but if I were in this business for the money, then California would be a no-brainer. One of the executives saw how I dealt with their most high-maintenance actresses and was so impressed he offered me a job on the spot a month ago. I, of course, refused politely, but it seems the studio can’t take no for an answer. They have plenty of problematic cases, where a person like me—who likes to solve problems before they arise, or effectively clean up the mess when they do—is a hot commodity to have on the West Coast.
The thing is, I like my job at Royal. I love working for my best friend. Sure, it’s long hours, and it’s grueling at times, but I usually have fun doing it. Going off to California, where I don’t know anybody, would be ideal if I wanted a fresh start, but life is good as it is. And of course, there is the other issue at hand. There’s no Dean Knox in California. And even though he doesn’t know I exist, I live and breathe that man. No way am I going to sever the only line I have to be in contact with him, even if only from afar. Yep, my crush, as well as my loyalty to Devina, were the only things keeping me in New York. Sure, Lexi and my mom living on the East Coast doesn’t help matters in persuading me to uproot my life to Hollywood, either. I couldn’t leave either of them in good conscience. They are the only family I have, so it doesn’t matter how many calls I get, or how many perks they offer, my answer will always be no.
“Lex, I’ve made up my mind, so don’t sweat it, okay? Now get going before you’re late for a big scoop or something,” I tell her as I throw the kitchen towel her way to hurry her along. Lexi’s genuine smile springs up, taking up her whole face, with the reassurance that she won’t be losing me to La La Land.
“It’s not a scoop, unfortunately. It’s investigative reporting of some labor law that didn’t pass, Edie. It’s boring as fuck, and I wish Tom had given this story to someone else who could stand being cooped up in a room reading a bunch of boring legal jargon, instead of praying for a natural disaster to happen to shake things up,” she replies, rolling her eyes.
“Jesus, Lex, please tell me you’re kidding? You don’t actually pray for bad shit to happen just so you can get a better story for your newspaper, do you?” I ask, my eyes wide in disbelief, and a bit worried that my friend is a little psychotic when it comes to her job.
Lexi just gives me a wink and a smile, throwing the kitchen towel back into my hands and strolling out the door without giving me an answer. If Lexi thinks I’m obsessed with work, then she needs to take a long, hard look in the mirror. She lives for that newspaper, just as much as I live for Royal. We were roomies back in NYU and recognized the drive and ambition we each had in our respective fields. It was probably the first thing we connected over, but while my life is now a predictable occurrence, Lexi is still driven by adrenaline and craves it on a constant basis. Being locked up in any room is not her style. I shouldn’t be surprised she gets down on both knees praying for that one story that will distinguish her as a proper established journalist. But still, wishing for bad stuff to happen has bad karma written all over it.
With Lexi now gone, I grab my purse, put on my jacket, and take one quick look at the silver-framed mirror in our hallway. I slump my shoulders when I confirm that I do look like an old maid. Maybe Lexi’s right. Perhaps if I shook things up a bit, my boring routine would get some life into it.
Guys, again, I’m okay with my life as it is.
Really!
But lately, I have been feeling lonely, which is weird since I enjoy being alone whenever I can. I’m usually around so many people, most of them loud, arrogant, and obnoxious, that when I get home and pour myself a glass of chardonnay, I instantly relax, feeling gratitude for the silence.
But lately at night, I find myself missing something, craving something I don’t yet have. I’m not sure where these feelings come from, but they are there, right at the surface, whispering how there must be more to life than this. Am I really happy with my life, or have I just accommodated to it? Am I confusing happiness with mere contentment?
I’m not unsatisfied with my life enough to do something as drastic as moving all the way to California, but maybe I’m just no longer happy going through life as I have been. The fact I haven’t had a boyfriend since college might be a factor. I’ve had little human intimacy in the last three years, and I think it’s finally catching up with me. I’m twenty-four years old and in my prime, and yet I live like an old woman with five cats as companions. I don’t actually have five cats, but you get the idea.
I’m in a rut. That’s it.
A rut of my making, and it’s caught up with me. Sparkling green eyes come to mind, and I shiver in place. Dean is my rut. He’s the reason I don’t even look at other men. But it’s so hard to, when perfection prances around in his sleek suits, rubbing it in my face Monday through Friday.
Okay, enough of that!
I shake my head, trying to remove all thoughts of the Adonis, and tell myself to have this pity party another time. Right now, I have to pull myself together and get my ass out of the apartment before I arrive late for work. Of course, no amount of skill is enough to prevent myself from thinking about Dean when, in an hour or so, I’ll be going to the first of various meetings taking place throughout the day, where he will also be present.
It’s hard not to obsess on someone when you have to be attentive to their every word.
Who am I kidding? I’d obsess over him even if he said nothing at all.
Chapter 2
Dean
Devina waltzes into my office like she owns it and shows little regard for my personal space. I ignore her like I do most days, and continue to read the latest report of this trimester’s numbers. I’m happy to see we are trailblazing light-years ahead of our competition. I’m in too good of a mood to let Devina’s little demonstration of power affect me in any way, but I still hope that whatever has brought her here will not dampen it. As always, her demure sidekick is at her heels with her trusty iPad and in-ear phone, waiting on Devina hand and foot. Devina places both hands on my desk, staring daggers at me. Whatever has got the blonde Ice Queen’s panties in a twist, I bet a million dollars it has something to do with our marketing director, which also happens to be one of the closest friends I have in the world.
